December Picnics
by Emily Darcy
Summary: Lily is kidnapped one cold Saturday morning by none other than James Potter - her least favorite person in the world. Can he change her mind with a romantic picnic? One Shot. James/Lily. R&R!


**Chapter One**

**Lily**

The day started off wonderfully – it's Saturday, so no classes. I slept until the sunlight streamed through my curtains, waking me up around eleven. I had no plans, so I grabbed a book I'd been reading on magical creatures, and wandered down to the common room for a comfortable chair by the fire.

Everyone else was outside, probably out having a snowball fight against the Slytherins, so I didn't have to deal with the ever-loud Gryfindors while I read. The stillness around me is peaceful, and it reminds me of my muggle house so far away. Though I'd much rather be reading in the noisy common room than at home, where no one understands me.

I force myself to focus on the book in front of me, knowing it's not best to think about my family when a stray Gryffindor could walk in at any moment.

About an hour or two later, I'm completely engulfed in the chapter about dragons when all of the sudden there's a hand covering my mouth, muffling my gasp of surprise. A piece of cloth is tied around my eyes, blocking out all hope of seeing who my attacker is.

My mind is racing, and I try to wriggle out of the person's arms, but they whisper "shhh," in my ear. I immediately recognize the voice as he pulls his Invisibility Cloak over the two of us, leading me through the common room and then to God-knows-where. I want to shout at him, but he never removes his hand from my mouth, and I fear he'd enjoy it all too much if I licked his fingers to make him release me. He continuously whispers in my ear, saying, "Almost there," and, "Watch your step."

As furious as I am for being kidnapped – and I fully intend on turning him in – I can't help but feel safe in his arms. I feel… comfortable.

_Woah! Lily, snap out of it! This is _James Potter_, the boy who blindfolded you and is dragging you to some unknown location! You should not be enjoying this! _I erase all positive thoughts of Potter from my head, angry at myself for thinking them. James is an annoying boy who is currently holding me hostage, and I hate him.

After walking for about ten minutes along hallways and corridors that I can't see through the blindfold, he finally removes his hand from my mouth. "Don't scream," he says quickly, pulling the cloak off me. "I promise-"

I scream, and he clamps his hand over my mouth again, and though I expect he'd be mad that I didn't listen to him, I hear him chuckle. "_Should've known…"_ he mumbles, pulling me back a step. I hear a door swing closed, and I get a little nervous. _What is he going to do…?_

He pulls the blindfold off me, revealing an old classroom I've never seen, with only a few working lights and desks pushed up against the walls. I give him a quizzical look, and he smiles, eyes moving to the middle of a room. I follow his gaze to see a blanket spread out across the stone floor, and a large picnic basket sitting in the middle. I don't know how to react to this.

He cautiously removes his hand from my mouth, and this time I don't scream.

"A…. picnic?" I ask, still surprised. Picnics are supposed to be a summer time thing; couples sprawl out underneath a shady tree, eat watermelon and sandwiches, and go swimming in rivers. Its winter here, and the classroom is dark, and a little chilly.

His multi-colored eyes sparkle at me, making the sarcastic comment I was about to say melt right out of my mind. "Yeah," he says, eagerly. "The muggles that live by me have picnics all the time, and I figured that since you grew up with muggles, you wouldn't laugh at me if I said I've always wanted to have one."

Just when I thought he was going to say some rude comment about me being Muggle-born, he goes and trusts me not to laugh at his secret desire. A feel heat spread across my cheeks, but I pretend I'm not affected by his words. "This is… actually sweet, Potter," I admit, almost wishing he'd give me a reason to hate him. I don't know how to be mean to him when he's genuinely being… _pleasant._

He grins triumphantly, then motions to the quilt and meal before us, sitting down beside me on the soft blanket. He pulls out a bottle of pumpkin juice, two glasses that appear to be glass but are actually plastic, sandwiches, and chips. As we eat the lunch that is actually pretty good, considering _James Potter_ is the one who made it – or more accurately, the food James Potter _stole_ – I feel like its summer time in London, as opposed to December at Hogwarts.

"So," James begins as we finish up our food. "Is this what it's like? Normal picnics, I mean."

I can't help but smile at him. "You definitely plan a good picnic for someone who's only watched other people's."

"Er, actually, I had a fourth year help me," he admits, looking a little embarrassed to admit it.

I smile, trying not to be impressed by James Potter – _who I do not like_ – but failing. "_You_ asked for help?" I repeat, meaning for it to sound a little harsh, but it comes out like I'm impressed. "And from a younger student, no less."

He shrugs. "I wanted everything to be perfect," he explains. I'd be lying if I say that the arrogant James Potter lowered himself enough to ask for help from a kid, just to impress me. _But that does not mean I like him. Because…. I don't._

We walk back to the common room a while later under James Invisibility Cloak once again, except this time, he doesn't blindfold or gag me. Half way up a staircase I've never seen before, he slips his hand into mine, and unlike every other time he's tried to hold my hand over the years…I don't mind it this time. In fact, his hand is warm, and I actually _like_ the way it feels to have it surrounding my own hand.

By the time we reach the Gryffindor common room and remove the Cloak, everyone is leaving for dinner. A group of my friends wave to me, motioning me to hurry up. I turn to James, and something that takes even _me_ by surprise. I kiss his cheek quickly, and smile at him.

"Thank you," I whisper, then pull my hand free and rejoin my friends, all before James can even form a coherent thought.

_All right, maybe I do like James Potter,_ I reluctantly admit to myself. _But only a little._

I grin, knowing I'm lying about the last part.


End file.
